


Sick Day

by snarkymuch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Borderline crack, College Student Peter Parker, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Tony is a Terrible Paitent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23330680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch
Summary: Peter gets a call from Tony that makes him believe something's seriously wrong. He rushes to the lake house to make sure Tony is okay, only to find an exhausted Pepper, and Morgan proclaiming that her daddy has the plague. Peter volunteers to watch over Tony so Pepper can have a break. Tony is needy and whiny, Peter is trying his best, but things work out okay in the end.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 142





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clowns_or_Midgets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clowns_or_Midgets/gifts).



> Hey, guys. This was heavily helped along by my best friend Jade, who isn't ready to write for Marvel yet, so she fed her ideas to me. Don't take this too seriously. This is for fun.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://snarky-drabbles.tumblr.com/)

Peter lounged on the couch, watching TV. It was the tail end of spring break, and he was spending it home visiting May and his friends. Tony had offered to send him to some place in Mexico, but Peter declined, wanting to relax close to home instead. The chip bag crinkled as he grabbed another Dorito and popped it into his mouth, huffing a laugh at SpongeBob as he took his driving test on the screen.

Just as Peter was grabbing another chip, his phone, which was on the coffee table, began blaring AC/DC’s Thunderstruck. Tony’s ringtone. Wiping the orange residue from the chips off on his shirt, he stretched out an arm, snagging the phone. He swiped to answer and then brought it to his ear.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter greeted, still half-watching SpongeBob. “What’s up?”

There was a rustling sound and then a cough. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been better for you.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat, and he tensed, pushing the chips to the side and sitting up. “What’s going on?”

“Take care of Morgan for me. She looks up to you.”

“Mr. Stark— _Tony_ —What’s wrong? Are you okay?” There was another round of coughing, and Peter was already on his feet. “Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it, Pete. This is it.”

“Are you home? Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

“Home,” Tony said with a raspy voice, “but you don’t need to come.”

Peter grabbed his keys from the dish on the table and bolted out of the door.

* * *

The ride to the lake house felt never-ending. He was pushing the speed limit, but it still felt like he was in slow motion. His mind replayed the conversation he’d had with Tony over and over. He had no idea what could have happened, but it sounded bad. Tony seemed like he was barely hanging on. The man had retired from Iron Man after Thanos, after months of physical therapy and a prosthetic arm. Peter worried that maybe this was some kind of after effect. The universe was refusing to let Tony rest, refusing to give him his happily ever after.

It was just after one o’clock when Peter pulled into the driveway to the lake house. The gravel crunched under the tires as he came to a stop. His palms were sweaty as he got out of the car and looked around. The usual vehicles were in their regular spots. Nothing seemed out of place. It was quiet except for the buzzing sounds of nature and the water lapping the shore.

Avoiding the spring mud, he crossed the yard and went to the door. He brought a hesitant hand up to knock, but before his knuckles hit the wood, the door swung open, startling Peter. He looked down at the little girl who was wearing a surgical mask and oversized dish gloves.

“Petey, daddy has the plague!”

Peter’s mouth opened and then closed, his brows pinching together. He frowned. “He has the what?”

Just then, a very disheveled Pepper stepped behind Morgan. Her hair was tied up in a loose ponytail, stray hairs falling into her face. The only makeup she had on was mascara, and that looked a little smudged. She blew her bangs out of the way and dropped a hand on Morgan’s head, who looked up at her. A tired smile spread on Pepper’s face.

“Lunch is on the table. Why don’t you go eat while I talk to your brother?”

The mask didn’t hide her pout. “But I wanna see Petey.”

Pepper sighed. “Please? There will be time for Peter later.”

Morgan slumped. “Is he gonna fix daddy?”

That made Peter tense. He looked to Pepper, who smiled at him. She looked exhausted. “I don’t think there’s much he can do, but we’ll see.”

Morgan must have decided that was good enough because she spun, pushing past the door and heading into the house. Pepper sagged, tucking her hair behind her ear. Stepping to the side, she gestured for Peter to come inside.

He hesitated but complied.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked as he followed her to the kitchen where Morgan sat, eating her sandwich with rubber gloves still on and mask pushed up on her forehead. “Is Tony okay?”

Pepper grabbed her coffee cup and filled it. Turning back to him, she leaned against the counter. “Tony is—Tony is fine. He’s caught a flu bug from Morgan. She was sick last week.”

That didn’t make any sense, though. Tony had sounded awful. Peter was sure he had been dying from the way he spoke.

“I thought—he called me. He made it out like he was dying.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, huffing a little. “Of course he did, because he’s an overgrown child. Actually, no, a child handles being sick better than him. I’m sorry he made you come all the way out here, especially on your break.”

Peter frowned, looking to Morgan and then back to Pepper. “He’s really okay?”

“Yes, he’s just fine—well, as fine as you can be with the flu, but he’s definitely not dying.”

“Daddy said he has the plague,” Morgan said as she chewed. “That it mu—mut—”

“Mutated,” Pepper finished for her.

“Yeah, that. He said it was worse than the regular plague.”

“Oh, did he?” Peter asked, his nerves setting and feeling a little better. He had never seen Tony sick. Peter had seen him hurt, but in all the time he’d known him, he’d never been around him when he had the flu. Apparently, he wasn’t a very good patient.

“Yup,” Morgan said, going back to her lunch.

“So, you see, Peter, there isn’t an emergency. Just a big, sick baby and two very tired nurses.” Pepper looked at Morgan and smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes, though. She looked run down.

Peter cleared his throat. “If you want—I mean, I could look after him for the day, give you two a break. You could catch a movie or something. I can watch him.”

Pepper visibly sagged with relief. “You’d really be willing to do that?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s no big deal. He can’t be that bad.”

Morgan finished her sandwich, pulling her mask back down on her face. Pepper took her plate and placed it in the dishwasher. She looked over her shoulder at Peter as she spoke. “I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Thank you, Peter. We really do need a break.” She turned to Morgan. “Go get your shoes on, and maybe leave your mask and gloves here.”

Frown lines appeared on Morgan’s brow. “But I need them for protection. I don’t want to catch the plague.”

Pepper shook her head. “Go put on your shoes, little miss. We can talk about your need for protection in a minute.”

Morgan scampered off, leaving Peter alone with Pepper.

“You sure you’re okay with this? He really is quite a handful when he’s sick.”

Peter nodded a few times. “Yeah, yeah, I got this. Enjoy your movie, do some shopping. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay, well, juice boxes are in the fridge. He only likes the grape ones. Cold medicine is the bathroom cabinet. He had some about an hour ago, so don’t let him fool you, and try to keep him off WebMD. Trust me. He convinced himself he had malaria last year because of that site.”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, okay, I think I can do that.”

“Thank you,” she said, crossing over to him and drawing him into a hug. He melted into it, her hair tickling his ear. She pulled back, hands still on his arms. “Don’t let him run you ragged, okay?”

Peter lifted his brows. “Like he did you?”

She smiled. “Exactly. Take care of yourself.”

Pepper excused herself to go help get Morgan ready, and Peter began the journey up the stairs to Tony’s room.

He knocked on the door lightly, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep. A moment later, a strained voice called him into the room.

Peter opened the door and stepped into the room, nearly stumbling at the sight in front of him. Tony was lying down, propped up on a pile of pillows. There were books and magazines strewn on the bed, two boxes of Kleenex sat beside him. A trashcan overflowing with used tissues was on the floor. There was a leaning tower of juice boxes on the nightstand, surrounded by bottles of vitamins and herbal supplements. Peter blinked at it all. Unsure where to start.

“You didn’t need to come to say goodbye, but I’m happy I got a chance to see you before I go,” Tony rasped. A round of coughing followed his dramatic declaration.

Peter sighed, closing the door and going to his side. He grabbed one of the juice boxes and stabbed in the straw, passing it to Tony. “Here, take a drink.”

Tony’s coughing fit tapered off, and he gratefully accepted the juice, the small straw pressed between his lips looking ridiculous. Peter held back a smile.

The juice box buckled, and the straw slurped air. Tony released it, leaning back into the pillows, and Peter tossed the empty box into the trash. Tony patted the bed beside him, and Peter took a seat.

“We need to talk,” Tony said, expression serious. “There are things we need to get in order. I’ve already called my lawyers, but you should know, I’m leaving you shares in Stark Industries.”

Peter sighed, already feeling exhausted. “Mr. Stark, that’s really not necessary.”

“Peter, we need plans in place. It’s no big deal, just a few signatures. I think—”

“Stop! You’re not dying, Mr. Stark, and honestly, this conversation is pretty damned upsetting after almost losing you once.”

The memory of Tony’s face as he lay slumped on the battlefield flashed through his mind. He sucked in a breath, trying to clear his mind.

Tony shifted, reaching over with his prosthetic arm, taking Peter’s hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just no more death talk,” Peter said. “When was the last you’ve eaten?”

“Haven’t been able to, but I could use some more cold medicine.” 

Peter remembered what Pepper had said. “You aren’t due any for a few hours.”

Tony’s dramatic sigh made Peter startle. He blinked at the man as he visibly pouted.

“Those doses are for weaklings, regular people, not people like me. I’m a hero, Pete.”

Peter raised his brows. “Well, you’re actually a retired hero, so you are, in fact, one of those regular people.”

Tony scowled at him. “I knew retirement was going to bite me in the ass.” Then his expression softened, and he batted his eyes. “Please, Peter, you don’t know what this is like—how it feels.”

“I’ve had the flu,” Peter deadpanned. “I know exactly how it feels.”

“I have a fever. I’m chilled.” Tony grabbed Peter’s hand and pressed it to his forehead. His eyes shut, and he looked like he fainted. Peter sighed. He didn’t feel any warmer than usual. Tony’s eyes popped open and gave Peter a beseeching look. “See? I’m burning up.”

“I’ll find a thermometer,” Peter sighed, getting up and crossing over to the bathroom. He dug around in the cabinet for a moment until he found it.

Back at Tony’s side, he took the man’s temperature. After it beeped, he read the display. It was one degree above normal. Rolling his eyes, he set the thermometer on the nightstand and turned to Tony.

“You can break it to me. I can handle it,” Tony said. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s barely over nighty-nine. I think you can handle it.”

Tony frowned. “When did you become so cruel—so coldhearted and jaded? I thought we had something special—a bond. I thought you understood me.”

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time, Peter relented. Tony had done a lot for him over the years, and he did owe him. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little kinder. “Tell you what,” Peter said. “How about I go make you something to eat?”

“Pizza?”

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “Soup. I can make you some chicken noodle soup. It might help you feel better. That’s what May does for me.”

After making sure Tony was comfortable, Peter went to the kitchen to make soup. There was a rotisserie chicken in the fridge he could use, along with some vegetables. He was chopping the carrots when he heard a choking cough come from the bedroom. He paused, knife held over the cutting board as he listened. There was a strangled noise followed by more coughing. Tossing the knife down, he bolted for the stairs, flying up them two at a time. He threw Tony’s door open and took in the scene.

Tony was hunched forward on the bed, face red as he strained to breathe. Peter ran to his side, patting him on the back. Tony couched again hard, grabbing a tissue and bringing it to his mouth. A second later, Tony looked at the napkin and panicked.

“I’m hemorrhaging!” Tony exclaimed, holding up the tissue for Peter’s inspection.

Peter was so worried that he wasn’t even grossed out. He looked at the tissue, seeing a splotch of phlegmy grape juice and a large pill. Tony had choked on what looked like a vitamin.

“How did you manage to choke? You weren’t tossing them in the air and trying to catch them, were you?” Tony frowned, averting his gaze, making Peter sigh. “Why are you even taking vitamins?”

“So, it’s not a piece of lung?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “No, not lung.”

He grabbed the nearest bottle of vitamins and opened it, peering inside. It was a match. Putting the lid back on, he checked the label. It was Biotin for Hair and Nails. Peter closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to center himself. When he agreed to watch Tony, he had no idea how ridiculous the man would be.

“Are these Pepper’s?” Peter asked.

Tony pursed his lips but reluctantly shrugged. “You wouldn’t give me more medicine.”

“Throw the tissue away and no more vitamins. I mean it.”

“But—”

“Nuh-uh, you’re lucky you haven’t overdosed, popping these things like candy.”

The corners of Tony’s mouth twitched downward. “You think I overdosed?”

“I doubt it, but I’m taking these bottles with me. You don’t need them anymore.” Peter collected the bottles in his arms and turned to Tony. “Just drink a juice box or something. I’ll be back with soup soon.”

The soup was bubbling away on the stove. He cheated and used some chicken stock he’d found in the cupboard, but he wanted it done sooner rather than later. The noodles were just cooking when his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Pepper’s cell. Swiping to the side, he answered.

“Hey, Pepper, how’s it going?”

“We just finished shopping, and now we’re thinking about a movie. There’s a double feature, but I wanted to check with you first. Do you think you can handle Tony that long?”

Peter stirred the soup. “Yeah, yeah, no problem, absolutely. Take your time. We’ll be fine.”

“Thank you for this, Peter. It’s really been good to get out.”

After brief goodbyes, they disconnected, and Peter stuffed the phone back in his pocket. The timer went off, and he checked the soup, ladling out a noodle and plucking from the spoon with his fingers. He blew on it a few times and then popped it in his mouth to check it. They were perfect. Shutting off the heat, he grabbed a bowl and spoon and got Tony some.

When he got to Tony’s room, he nudged the door open with his foot and carried the steaming soup to Tony, who was waiting impatiently. The remote was in pieces on the bed. It looked like he’d taken it apart to upgrade it. Peter didn’t comment on it. Instead, he crossed the room and passed Tony the bowl.

Peter waited, quietly biting his tongue while Tony poked at the contents. He spooned up a carrot, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“I don’t like carrots.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’ve literally watched you eat carrots and ranch while working in the lab.”

“These carrots are cooked—all squishy and soft.”

Peter sighed. “Then don’t eat them.”

Tony dropped the offending carrot in the trash and then began stirring his soup. A moment later, another followed the first and then another. Peter could feel his patience thinning.

Finally, with all the carrots fished out, Tony took a tentative sip from his spoon. He held it in his mouth a moment before swallowing and then looking at Peter. “It’s bland.”

“You’re sick. It’s supposed to be.”

Tony pouted. “Can I have some salt?”

Peter scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yes, I’ll go find you some salt.”

A quick trip to the kitchen found him the salt, and he was back in Tony’s room, passing it to him. Tony shook it into the bowl.

“You’re putting too much,” Peter warned.

Tony scowled and shook it again a few more times.

“What do I know?” Peter mumbled.

Setting the saltshaker down on the nightstand, Tony stirred his soup and then took a sip of broth. His eye twitched, and he grimaced.

“You put too much. Just admit it.”

“Nope, it’s perfect,” Tony said, taking another grimace inducing bite. Peter rolled his eyes and plopped down in the chair near the bed. He watched a Tony choked down his salty soup. The man was stubborn. Peter would give him that.

Once most of the soup was gone, Tony set the bowl on the nightstand, avoiding his pile of juice boxes.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Peter suggested.

Tony frowned. “I’m not tired.”

“You know, I’m really seeing where Morgan gets her personality from.”

Tony ignored his comment, turning to the remote that is in pieces. With nimble fingers, Tony had it reassembled in minutes and flipping on the TV. “Let’s watch a movie. Maybe we can watch Back to the Future again, or Terminator. No, maybe something softer instead like Tangled or Frozen.”

“Aren’t those Morgan’s favorites?”

Tony shrugged as he selected Tangled and settled back against his pillows. Peter’s stomach took that moment to rumble, and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since the Doritos that morning. Getting up, he told Tony he would be right back and went to the kitchen. He was just looking through the cabinets for a snack when he heard Tony whining his name from upstairs. Sighing, Peter snagged the box of Wheat Thins and trudged back to his room.

When he got back to the room, he found Tony sitting in bed, with the thermometer in his hand. He held it out for Peter. “My fever has gone up, and my pillow is lumpy, and is it time for more medicine yet?”

Peter sighed and got to work. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Pepper unlocked the door, bags full of clothes and ice cream in her arms. It was late. They had stayed out longer than she had planned, going to dinner after the movie, but they’d stopped on the way home for ice cream. She’d even bought caramel sauce for the top because it was Tony’s favorite.

Despite the busy day, Morgan was still full of energy, helping her put away the ice cream. There was no sign of Peter, so she assumed he was upstairs with Tony. Together, she and Morgan headed to the room she shared with Tony.

When she opened the door, the sight that greeted her made her heart melt. Peter in curled up in the chair, hair sticking up at odd angles and a juice box clutched in his hands.

She stepped into the room, stopping beside the bed. “What did you do to him?”

Tony gave her an innocent expression. “I didn’t do anything. The kid just makes a great nurse. Did you know he can cook? He made me soup, Pep, soup! I’m feeling pretty good now.”

Pepper smiled softly, as Morgan climbed into the bed with her father, laying on his chest and hugging him.

“No more gloves and mask?” Tony asked.

Morgan shook her head. “They made my hands sweaty, and my nose itch.”

Tony laughed. “I think you’re safe anyway.”

“Mommy got us ice cream, with caramel.”

“Oh, did she? And why don’t I have a bowl then?”

Pepper gave him an assessing look. “Are you sure you’re well enough for a treat?”

“Everyone feels well enough for ice cream,” Tony said. “Seriously, I feel like a million bucks. Okay, maybe not a million but a solid thousand.”

Pepper laughed. “Okay, I’ll get you a bowl, but since you’re feeling better, I expect to see your ass out of bed tomorrow. I think we’re all feeling worn out.”

“Mommy said a bad word!”

Tony laughed, kissing Morgan’s head. “That she did. I promise, Pep. I’ll behave.”

Morgan squirmed in his arms. “Should I wake Petey up for ice cream?”

Tony shook his head, brushing the hair out of Morgan’s face. “Nah, let him sleep. He’s earned it.”

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Hopefully, you laughed. I tried. As always, I love you guys, and with any luck, I'll keep churning these out.


End file.
